A/N: Hey all! Anne-Lilian here! We're not dead! Yay!

So, grad school and RL kicked both our butts a little harder than we thought it would, and this chapter was ridiculously hard to write as a result. But now we're back and hopefully also back to our regular schedule.

So without further ado, I'll let you get back to the chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 12:

Gradually, Margaery started to feel more comfortable with a bow in her hands. Every night at sundown, she would sneak out of her quarters with Gilly to meet the Lord Commander at the armory for another lesson. Ghost would always stand guard as they talked and practiced. Jon was right - there was soreness involved in the learning process. Her whole body ached every night when they were through, but she was determined not to complain. This was something she wanted, and now she was paying her dues.

She had finally moved up to drawing back just the string, and she was making progress. "Good," Jon remarked as he looked at her form. "Remember, keep your back elbow high, and make sure your hands aren't tense around the bow or the string. You want to be able to simply pull back to the corner of your mouth and release."

Margaery nodded, relaxing. "When did you start learning archery, Jon?"

A fond smile spread across his face. "I was about six or seven. I was watching Robb train with Ser Rodrik a few yards away, and I wanted nothing more than to be right there with them. Before I knew it, Father was behind me, hand on my shoulder, asking if I wanted to learn." His look grew nostalgic. "From that day on, I trained with Robb every day, in archery and hand-to-hand combat." A sigh escaped him. "Lady Stark wasn't pleased, but Father insisted with her until she finally relented."

Now it was Margaery's turn to smile, albeit a bit sympathetically. "I remember the first time I watched Loras with a sword. He was probably only a little older than Robb would have been - eight or nine." She chuckled. "He looked so awkward, even with the practice sword. I never would have thought then that he would become one of the greatest fighters of his time, through the whole Seven Kingdoms."

Jon's smile grew as she spoke so fondly of Ser Loras. "I suppose we all have unexpected things happen to us at some point in our lives." He paused. "I never thought watching Robb train that he would become King in the North…or that I would wind up here, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch…" he trailed off, but Margaery was fairly sure what he was thinking, because it probably echoed her own thoughts. Or that I would have met you.

He quickly straightened, clearing his throat. "Right. Are you ready to start shooting arrows now?"

Her eyes quickly brightened. "Can I?"

Jon chuckled at her almost childlike excitement. It almost reminded him of Arya. But then he remembered how his little sister was the complete opposite to the woman in front of him. Where the youngest Stark girl was all wildness and adventurous spirit, Margaery was the picture of ladylike grace. No wonder Sansa seemed to like her so much. Jon mused that perhaps Margaery would be the only person that could emulate both his sisters equally.

"Can you keep your back elbow up without tensing the rest of your back?" he asked, pulling out of his reverie as he picked up a few arrows and headed towards her. Margaery let her position fall, before resetting. Jon nodded. "Good. Make sure you stay relaxed, especially while you hold the arrow. Remember, just the two fingers around it, and your thumb on the back."

She nodded, resetting again and rolling out her shoulders to relax. Jon moved to stand next to her again as she drew back the string, the way he had with Bran in the Winterfell courtyard so long ago. Just as he had then, he spoke again. "Don't think too much, M- Bethany," he said softly, almost slipping on her name. He remembered Robb's advice to Bran, and promptly heard it coming out of his mouth. "Relax your bow arm," he said, placing a gentle hand on the crook of her left elbow.

She exhaled softly. Her fingers released the string, and the thud of the head landing in the target came soon after Despite the fact that it was dreadfully off-center, Jon smiled. "Good. Hitting the target is the first thing. Now we can work on refining your aim."

Margaery had a small pout of her face that she quickly hid when she noticed him looking at her. That smile really was endearing. "You know, I think I can do better," she said, once again loading an arrow and taking aim. This time, she really took her time, though not to the point where Jon was concerned that she was tensing up too much. She let out a breath, held one more second, and released. As the arrow hit a few inches to the left of the center, she turned to him with a big smile, which he readily returned. He seemed to be doing that much more lately.

A mischievous light entered her eyes. "How about a little wager, Lord Commander?" she asked playfully.

Alright, perhaps she was a little more like Arya than he'd originally thought. "What kind of wager, my lady?" he asked, a little suspiciously.

"I bet," she said, taking a few slow steps around him, " that I will be able to hit the center of the target by the end of next week."

Jon couldn't help his grin. "And what if it's just a lucky shot?" he challenged, more playfully than he'd have thought himself capable of before.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Fine. I get 5 arrows. At least one must hit the center. Deal?" she asked, comically holding out a hand for him to shake.

Jon chuckled. "Very well, 5 arrows," he said, taking her hand and giving it a single shake.

But she didn't let go.

Instead, her smile softened a little. "You don't do that very often. Laugh, I mean," she said. "You have a nice smile," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, Jon was acutely aware that they were alone in a relatively enclosed space, and that her hand was warm in his. Unbidden, his mind went back to the morning he'd woken up with her in his arms. It shouldn't have surprised him that he wanted that to happen again, but somehow, it did. She had fit so nicely against his chest, he remembered, the way her hand fit so well in his now…

The way Margaery's eyes flickered down to his lips was what shocked him out of his stupor. He quickly let go of her hand and took a step back, pretending not to see the slight flash of hurt in her eyes. "Well…I would say you have yourself a deal, Miss Flowers," he said, trying - and probably failing - to smile again.

Margaery did her best to return it, though something inside her flipped with disappointment. Perhaps he doesn't want me after all.

/*/

The road north was getting noticeably colder, but Sansa felt much more secure now than she had in a long time. She certainly felt much better than she did when she left the Vale, now that she had Brienne guarding her. While Brienne stayed serious and vigilant, her squire - Podrick, whom she remembered from her marriage to Tyrion Lannister - didn't seem to have any problem with chatting to pass the time, especially when they were taking a break and sitting around a fire.

Sansa was content to just listen and let the conversation wash over her. He'd been telling her amusing anecdotes about his training as a squire. He'd even managed to get her to smile once or twice. It never lasted long, but she appreciated his joviality nonetheless.

"I once actually fell over my sword," he joked animatedly. Sansa had the feeling that since Brienne wasn't one for conversation, perhaps he'd missed being able to speak so freely.

"Was that...while you were in Lord Tyrion's service?" Sansa asked hesitantly. She almost felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that she had barely thought of her husband since fleeing King's Landing.

"It was, my lady," Podrick replied, his face changing slightly.

Sansa immediately noticed, and knew something had to be wrong. "What is it, Podrick?"

The young squire sighed. "He was arrested at the wedding for King Joffrey's murder. Just after you disappeared." he told her. "He's awaiting a trial by combat in the black cells, and Cersei is still searching for you."

What had been a pang of guilt moments ago became a wash of it. "N-no...Tyrion wouldn't do that," she stuttered. "He couldn't have. We were together the whole day, until - " she stopped. "Until I left."

A bit to her surprise, there was a look of sympathy in the squire's eyes. "Not to worry, my lady. We both know Lord Tyrion, I'm sure he'll find a way out of his predicament."

Sansa couldn't help but smile. "Perhaps you're right," she said softly.

There was only quiet for a moment before Brienne strode over to them. "At the rate we're going, we should reach the Wall within the week. Are you ready to move on, my lady?"

Energized at the news, the young Lady of Winterfell set her jaw with a new gleam in her eye. "Yes. Let's go. The sooner we get to my brother, the better."

/*/

Gilly sighed happily as she stepped back into the room she now shared with Bethany. It's not that she was frightened to step outside, but being in their own room - with a locking door - made her feel much safer.

She looked up to see Bethany sitting on her cot, playing with Little Sam. Much as she disliked having to hand over her baby to someone else, she knew she could trust her friend as much as she trusted Sam with him. "Hello, Gilly," Bethany said once she noticed her, settling Sam on her lap.

"Hallo Bethany," Gilly replied, smiling. It reminded her in a strange way of living at Craster's Keep. She and her sisters had always stuck together and raised the kids together. In a way, that was what she and Bethany were doing now. Would the other girl mind being compared to a sister, Gilly wondered? "I hope he wasn't too much trouble?" she asked, reaching for the babe.

Bethany handed him over willingly. "Not at all. I've been around my fair share of small children back home; he's by far one of the most mild-mannered I've cared for."

As Gilly cuddled her little boy to her chest, she glanced over at the other woman. "You don't talk about it a lot. Home, I mean."

Bethany's smile slipped a little bit, before gaining it's former strength again. "I miss it," she said frankly. "It's so different there…" she trailed off, obviously getting lost in some memory.

It was odd for Gilly, who'd never been very happy at home, save for the few moments after Craster had been given another daughter to someday make a wife. Or when he was passed out drunk. "Did you have any sisters?" she asked, sitting down on her cot across the room.

"No sisters, but one brother," she said, smiling fondly. Then suddenly, the smile froze, and Bethany seemed to debate something. She glanced at Gilly - who was getting a little confused now - before nodding to herself and seemingly strengthening her resolve. "All the girls thought he was so handsome," she continued. "He had lovely blonde curls, almost like a girl's. Blue eyes. I never saw my brother without a smile when we were growing up."

Gilly tried to picture him, but she didn't have much experience with men, aside from Craster and the men of the Wall. And she didn't think Bethany's brother looked much like them.

Bethany grinned wider then. "He was always showing off to everyone. He's one of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms, so it was quite a sight to behold."

Again, Gilly tried to picture it. She knew the Lord Commander was a good fighter, so that's what she came up with. She supposed he was handsome, too, but Gilly would always prefer Sam's caring nature to Jon's brooding, serious one.

As she looked up, she noticed Bethany looking at her with a bemused expression. "What were you thinking of just now?" she asked.

"Sam," Gilly said bluntly. She was vaguely aware that a proper lady would probably blush and change the subject, but…well, Gilly was no lady.

Bethany quickly caught on, a friendly smirk forming on her face. "You like him, don't you?"

Gilly frowned at her. "Of course I like him."

Laughing, Bethany scooted closer. "That's not what I meant. You fancy him," she clarified, grinning broadly.

This time, Gilly did blush a little. She knew what it meant, of course, but, again, she had very little experience with this sort of thing. "You think so?" she asked, honestly curious. She knew that her feelings towards Sam were somewhat more fond than towards any of the other men here, but did that mean she fancied him?

Bethany's smile turned mischievous. "I think you and I have some things to talk about…"

/*/

Unbeknownst to the two women, the object of their conversation stood outside the door, blushing from head to toe, and a little shocked at what he had heard. It couldn't possibly be her, but the description… And she had gone missing after the debacle in King's Landing… Add to that the various descriptions he'd heard of the lady in question, and her brother…

But it couldn't be…

Were they harbouring the woman who killed the King?

And, more importantly… Gilly fancied him?

A/N: Sam has his priorities straight, am I right? ;)

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